Suddenly he stood up and shook both his fists in the air. "Damn it," he cried, "and why can't we cheat 'em, Joan? Cheat all those grinning imps, and seize the Blue Bird and never let it go?"
"Because," she answered slowly, "if you handle the Blue Bird roughly or snatch at it and put it in a cage, it just pines away and dies. And then the imps grin and chuckle worse than ever. . . ."
She rose and put her hands on his shoulders. "It's here now, my dear. I can hear it fluttering so gently near the window. . . . And that noise from the streets is really the fairy chorus. . . ."
A motor car honked discordantly and Vane grinned.
"That's a stout-hearted little fellow with a good pair of lungs on him." She smiled back at him, and then she pushed him gently backwards and forwards with her hands.
"Of course he's got good lungs," she said. "He toots like that whenever anybody falls in love, and twice when they get married, and three times when. . . ."
Vane's breath came in a great gasp, and he pushed her away almost roughly.
"Don't—for God's sake, don't, Joan. . . ."
"My dear," she cried, catching his arm, "forgive me. The Blue Bird's not gone, Derek—it's still there. Don't frighten it—oh! don't. We won't snatch at it, won't even think of making any plans for caging it—we'll just assume it's going to stop. . . . I believe it will then. . . . And afterwards—why what does afterwards matter? Let's be happy while we may, and—perhaps, who knows—we will cheat those grinning imps after all. . . ."
"Right," cried Vane, catching her hands, "right, right, right. What shall we do, my dear, to celebrate the presence of our blue visitor? . . ."